


Money is the Anthem of Success

by modernKhione



Series: salva me, fons pietatus [2]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: F/M, Gambling, Gen, Gift Giving, Mammon-centric, Not Canon Compliant, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernKhione/pseuds/modernKhione
Summary: Mammon takes you to a casino at your request, because what else are you supposed to do when you need a lot of money fast?(Mostly Mammon-centric plus a small side of Satan.)
Relationships: Main Character & Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Series: salva me, fons pietatus [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777036
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. the flop

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where the last few months went. This started off as a Mammon birthday present, then it was Satan's birthday, and now we're in November and it might as well be a birthday present to me lol. Finally finished it off. Maybe now I'll get around to some other stuff.
> 
> The first fic in this series, [Good Demons Help You Bury Bodies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338878), takes places between Parts 2 and 3 of this fic. Not necessary to read it to understand this one; it's just to give you more context.
> 
> Title from Lana del Rey's song, "National Anthem."
> 
> Unbeta'ed because time is fake and so are typos.

You counted and recounted, but the result stayed the same: you were short on money.

Okay, so perhaps offering to buy the Avatar of Gluttony lunch every day while using him as a meat shield between you and the rest of the student body had been ill-advised, but none of the other brothers shared your lunch period after your schedule got reshuffled for the _remedial classes_ you needed, and really, Beel was too much of a sweetheart to say no to. It wasn't (entirely) his fault he was hungry all the time!

That all meant, however, that you were unfortunately short on cash at the moment, and you had promised to get Satan something for his birthday, despite his protests. The present had been picked out and reserved already; the only matter left was handing over the money. The money which you did not have.

While you contemplated your self-inflicted misfortunes, a knock came at your door—a series of knocks, each harder than the last, punctuated by indistinct shouting.

Mammon.

You sprang up, a sudden idea in mind. You opened the door to let the Avatar of Greed tumble into your room, though not before surreptitiously pocketing your remaining Grimm; it would be rude to tempt him like that, and you needed his attention on yourself besides.

Mammon made a noise like a cross between a huff and a growl, patting imaginary dust off his jacket as he walked in. “Would it kill ya to answer the door faster? The Great Mammon is busy, ya know!”

You patted his cheek fondly as you reached behind him to close the door, leaving him a blustering mess. With a soft _click_ , you were now alone—and unable to be overheard, courtesy of a little spell Satan had placed on your door.

Before he could regain his equilibrium, you stopped him with a firm hand over his mouth. His eyes went wide, letting you pick out their lovely blue-gold hue. You cleared your throat—a habit stolen from Satan. “I need you to do me a favour, Mammon. But I need you to let me finish. No interruptions. Is that okay?” You held his gaze until he nodded, then dropped your hand. You moved to the bed, patting his customary spot beside you as you sat down. He followed with some mumbling, but said nothing to you.

You leaned back, eyeing him, taking in his sunglasses—pointless in a realm without sun—and his expensive leather jacket, and the real gold necklace around his neck. For all his scatterbrained antics, he really knew how to present himself—a lot like Asmo, in fact. But he started to fidget, so you decided to let go of your doubts and let him in on your newest idea.

But first, there were a few things to ascertain. “There are casinos down here, aren’t there?” Gambling dens often devolved into pits of vice and iniquity; it stood to reason that the Devildom would have them too.

White brows knit together as Mammon nodded. “But they don’t lemme in anymore,” he added. “The Great Mammon’s too good at winning!” He puffed out his chest a bit at the last, but his gambling skill wasn’t relevant to your plan.

You ignored his boasting and got to the point. “But I would be allowed in, right?”

A glimmer of interest came to his eyes, taking his attention off of his (self-professed) prowess at gambling. “Yeah, so long as Lucifer doesn't catch ya. Whaddaya want with the casino anyway? If you wanna make money, there's plenty of ways to do that. Actually—” He leaned in just as you cut him off.

“No, I want to go to a casino,” you said firmly. Mammon pulled back, his expression growing guarded as his eyes narrowed at you in suspicion.

“What _do_ you want with a casino?”

You shrugged. “I want to play some poker. Indulge me?” Mammon didn’t seem convinced, so you added, “If you won’t I’ll just go ask the guys from our Metaphysical Geography class.”

Mammon bristled. “What? No way! You can’t play with those guys—they’ll eat a puny human like you alive! You’ll be dead _and_ broke when they’re through with ya!” It was clear from his tone which of the two outcomes he found more upsetting.

He was getting off topic. You decided to go on the offensive. With a sweet smile, you said, “I’ll give you thirty-five percent of my earnings.”

He paused, as if contemplating the idea, before shaking his mop of white hair vigorously. “No, no, no! I’m not gettin’ tricked like that. Do you think the Great Mammon needs more money?” he added at the end, as if the answer weren’t obvious.

Your smile grew. “I wouldn’t know. Say, why _did_ you want to come see me anyway?”

That made Mammon stop dead. He let out a string of incoherent half-formed reasons for his visit, his face growing redder with each excuse. At last, the truth came out, though he was still putting in a lot of effort in denying it. “And I definitely wasn’t comin’ to ask ya if I could borrow some Grimm! Definitely not! The Great Mammon doesn’t need to do something like that!”

You held back a laugh, trying to turn it into a sigh instead. It came out a little uneven, but Mammon didn’t seem to notice. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any money left to lend out this month, if, say, a friend were to come in here asking for help. Not that anyone has, of course.”

Mammon grumbled a bit and made to move. You had to act fast.

“But you know, I’m really good at poker. I’ve made ten grand in a night before. If only I could find my way to a casino, I could turn what I have left into a small fortune. Oh well.”

Your acting abilities wouldn’t win any awards—or fool anyone else, really. But this wasn’t so much about fooling Mammon as it was about getting information into his head without him rejecting it outright. He finally turned to look at you again, gold almost seeming to shine from his eyes.

“You’ve won ten grand in one night?”

You smiled back innocently. “I always quit while I’m ahead.” 

He studied you seriously then, his gaze more appraising than it had ever been before; never had he looked at you like this. It was almost uncomfortable, giving rise to a tight feeling in your chest. You waited for his answer with baited breath.

His smile was dazzling when he replied. “I know a place we can go to.”


	2. the turn

The casino was not quite what you had expected. Of course, nothing in the Devildom had really turned out the way you expected, even though it had been about a month and a half already. 

The entire place was decked out in gold. Just gold. Where there wasn’t gold, diamonds dripped off every corner, refracting light into every crevice of the giant room. It was like being shoved inside of the sun, though there was no warmth to be found.

Well, now you knew where Mammon got his aesthetics from.

You raised a hand to your eyes to shield them a bit, now unused to so much light. How did Mammon handle it so well, despite having lived in the Devildom so long?

“I hope we’re playing in a lounge,” you said quietly, tugging on his jacket sleeve to prevent him from dashing off. The security guards at the door had allowed Mammon in, but only with you agreeing to be his chaperone. He had breezed by of course, but being charged with keeping this particular demon in line, in a place like this, made you feel as if you had to take that responsibility seriously. How the tables turned…

Without a word, though you caught a flash of a huge grin on his face, Mammon led you across the floor, away from the slot machines and small-stakes tables, to the other end of the room. The two of you stopped in front of a door with a guard demon beside it. Letters and numbers were printed on an elegant sign. Though your grasp of the language here was still rudimentary at best, you understood enough to know that the sign indicated the rake fee, blinds, and minimum bet for the room. There were a lot of zeroes in the minimum bet.

“Mammon, can we even afford this?” you hissed at him, tugging him down to your level. “I can’t make money appear out of  _ nothing _ .”

The Avatar of Greed waved off your concern, smiling all the while. “Nah, maybe  _ your _ puny human stipend can’t afford it, but the Great Mammon’s here to back you up!” And with that, you suddenly found a clinking bag of coins in your hands. You blinked. “I want that back by the way. With interest!”

You slowly nodded. Judging by the heft of the bag in your hands, it was most likely enough to get you one hand, maybe two if you started out carefully. But you would have to start winning fast to stay in the game. And that wasn’t how you usually did these things.

Mammon was still beaming at you however, and while it was going to be a bit harder than you had planned, you could still probably make a decent profit by the end of the night. Demons, you had learned, weren’t that much different from humans in many ways. And in many ways, their psychology was even  _ more _ human—more base, and more predictable. You could use that to your advantage.

You hashed out the terms of your agreement with him quickly. “Thirty percent cut of my winnings, after fees.”

His smile receded. “Fifty. I don’t just let anyone handle my stash like that y’know!”

Honestly, it was a bit of a shock to your system that Mammon even had that much money hoarded away, not to mention his willingness to part with it, however temporary. You considered this for a moment. You still needed to eat (and feed Beel) for the rest of the month, after you bought the present.

You put on your best haggling face and sighed. “Thirty-five. It’s barely enough to cover a few hands. I’m good at poker but it’s still a  _ luck _ -based game. And  _ real _ high rollers aren’t usually that easy to swindle either.” You glared at him a little. He couldn’t have not known that.

He frowned. “Tch. Fine. Thirty-five percent.” He grumbled something off to the side, then pulled out his phone, tapping something in. He moved it out of your view when you bent to get a look at his screen. “Oi, watch it! That’s top secret!”

You eyed him and noticed he had stopped typing, instead giving furtive looks at the door.

It was probably better not to know.

You sighed and shrugged. “Okay, let’s go then.”

To your surprise, Mammon didn’t budge when you tried to pull him along. He yanked his arm back instead. “Whaddaya think you’re doing?”

“Aren’t we going to go in?”

He stared at you. Then he shook his head. “Nah, I’m not allowed. Only players can go in. And like I said, these places won’t let me play anymore.” Was that a hint of a pout that you detected?

Regardless, that threw another wrench into your plans. Though it did explain Mammon’s willingness to stick you with all his money. You bit your lip. “Okay. I—All right then.”

Mammon smiled a little, seeing your uncertainty. He clapped you on the back, hard; you nearly bit your tongue. “Don’t worry about it! The Great Mammon’s gonna be right here, keepin’ ya safe the whole time. I already let ‘em know you’re coming.”

Was that what he had been doing? You smiled back. “Thanks, Mammon. And thanks for getting me here. I really appreciate it.”

“You can thank me with a fifty percent cut!”

“Okay, no thank you then.” You laughed and waved, turning to go inside. The last glance you caught was of Mammon grinning, waving back.

The room was dark inside; one large lamp hung from the ceiling, illuminating the table while keeping all the surrounding seats dark. It was spacious too, with heavy oak furniture and plush cushions on the chairs. Lazy trails of cigarette smoke drifted in the air as you approached, grabbing the last empty seat. The room was deathly silent. It was entirely different from the glitzy, gaudy nouveau-riche styled floor outside.

Without any word, a lizard-like demon dressed in a three-piece suit and bowtie came up to you. After a moment, you realized their hand was outstretched. You quickly gave them all your money (and Mammon’s); a moment later, they returned with chips. Their monetary equivalent was engraved on the top in gold lettering; to your relief, the numbers were in the numerals that you were used to. Your pile was noticeably smaller than the others.

As soon as you sat back, another suited demon began to deal the cards. The blinds were already in the centre, so at least you didn’t have to lose money at the beginning; it was always your policy to fold in the first round, while acting scared and nervous. It helped you bluff later on.

And with that, the game began.

* * *

Later that night, you exited the high-stakes lounge with two giant bags of coins and a deep sense of relief, though you tried not to show it. There might still be people watching, though quite a few of the players you had started with had already left by then, with new demons being dealt in.

To your surprise however, Mammon was nowhere to be found. You frowned, circling the floor, trying to see past the glare of the diamond-encrusted decor for a glimpse of a head of dark skin and white hair.

Finally, you spotted him in the restaurant, surrounded by simpering demons of all sorts of shapes and sizes. You blinked.

Right.

Mammon was technically one of the most important demons here.

Technically.

You sighed and swallowed your nerves, striding up to him. You threw the smaller of the two bags onto his table. “Here.”

Mammon took a moment to recognize you. Then exclaimed in delight, and you waved him off, leaving him to his celebration—and his admirers. He wouldn’t be much help for where you needed to go now, anyway.

The shop from which you had reserved Satan’s gift was still open, but not for long. You had to hurry if you were to get there in time.


	3. the river

When you brought Satan his birthday gift a week later, the look of mild surprise on his face, along with the slight pink tinge to his cheeks, were reward enough for your efforts.

“Open it!” You urged him, though still he took care with his movements, as if your clumsy wrapping job were something to be savored.

Finally, it was done, and he stared at your gift in silence.

“Is… Is it okay?” His lack of response tempered your initial excitement.

At this he swallowed, and his eyes made their way slowly to yours. They shone like brilliant-cut emeralds, with a flash of blue fire caught inside. “I love it,” he said simply. Sincerity poured out of him; you had to fight the urge to embrace him then and there, to hold him and never let go.

Instead you smiled, half-joy, half-relief. “I’m glad.”

**Author's Note:**

> If I were to give Satan a gift, I'd probably give him an expensive fountain pen (I have a terrible attachment to fountain pens unfortunately) and a journal. Maybe a cursed one, so he can definitely keep his thoughts safe. A nice, leather-bound journal with hand-made paper... mmm....
> 
> If I had the energy and inclination, I'd probably write him a mystery to solve. I think he'd love that.


End file.
